


Island of Lies

by AwatereJones



Series: Torchwwod Style Movie re-writes [6]
Category: The Island (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Alt Verse, M/M, Mpeg, Virgin preg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5176355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwatereJones/pseuds/AwatereJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watched the Island the other day and this happened before I could stop it.</p><p> Not really a Torchwood re-write but mostly The Island used as a format. Ianto and Jack are friends, waiting to go to the island. Ianto's trip is guaranteed but Jack learns that this is not what they thought and he must save the man he secretly loves. </p><p>Soft Smut and last chap will be naughty smut, OK?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It begins

Neighbouring apartments with identical frosted facades. Then more apartments, above and below, the tiers linked by ramps and crosswalks. It might be a prison cellblock but there are no guards apparent.

Metal. All metal.

Indeed, the residents move freely, all notably male, all clad in slippers, polo shirts and slacks. It is just another day in Zone Four.

Music plays from overhead speakers. A glass wall looks out across a green mountain valley. The plaza, formed in curves of creamy ceramic tile, is divided into two service areas. Male residents in line on one side, female staff on the other. Both genders segregated in the area. Jack reaches the head of the line. He swipes his hub-cuff over a scanner.

A gruff woman in uniform, eyes the readout on her screen

**-Jack Six-Echo... Options are dried fruit, oatmeal or anything in bran.-**

"What?" Jack snarks as he looks at the selection sheet she pushes at him, "No bacon?"

"You got a sodium flag, pal - now what's it going to be?" she smiles sarcastically.

"Whatever." Jack shrugs, disgruntled.

The clerk taps her screen. Turning to a row of chutes behind her, she collects a foil covered bowl and a drink can.

Jack, less than appetized, loads his tray with the oatmeal and juice breakfast.

The little container of pills is offered and he tips it into his mouth while she watches.

Then he heads into the seating area.

In the seating area, male and females sit apart eating and chatting happily. Uniformed busboys intermix, clearing and wiping tables. A divide in this community now starts to become clear... The busboys, like the nutrition clerk, like all the service, maintenance, and administrative staff we'll see, have distinct uniforms but no wrist bands. They are known as "outsiders". The "residents", like Jack, have the matching polo shirts and hub-cuffs on their wrists. Mostly Caucasian, from mid-twenties to mid-sixties.

There are no children here.

A younger man, mid-20's, fresh, bright eyes, a fragile beauty who sits looking around the cafeteria then sees Jack looking from the end of the serving area, he smiles and waves. "Jack! Over here!"

Jack crosses, a little surprised to see him. Pleasantly so.

"Hello, stranger." Jack purrs as he slides opposite with his tray.

"What?" Eyes widen "You don't recognize me?"

"It's just an expression, that's all." Jack laughs as he settles in his seat.

"You and your expressions, Jack." Ianto snorts with an eye roll that Jack loves so much, "Now settle down and ask me where I've been."

Jack grins and leans forward "Okay, Ianto. Where have you been?"

"At the medical centre. Just for tests but they had me on liquid nutrition." He says and forks a mouthful of eggs, "Mmmmm. This is the first solid food I've had in a week."

"Exciting." Jack says as he watches the fork moving.

"That's not the exciting part. I got my first trimester report: happy, healthy and contaminant-free..." Ianto takes another mouthful and groans, "Both of us."

"Us?" Jack frowns.

"My baby... It's in perfect condition. I just hope I can keep it that way. I still have six months to delivery." Ianto sighed as he patted his flat stomach with excitement.

"Then you leave all this behind, huh?" Jack said softly as he stared at the stomach of his table mate.

"Why? Will you miss me?" His eyes betray a flicker of something. It unsettles Jack.

"I'll miss your coffee. C'mon, I already burned up my quota." Jack jokes and pretends he doesn't see the flare of something in Ianto's eyes that quickly fades.

"Okay. But this is the last time. They only allow me one a day now" In a deliberate move, he drops his fork on the floor. As he ducks down to retrieve it, Jack steals a gulp of his coffee. Rising again, Ianto registers his souring look.

"What is it?" Ianto looks around.

Jack just nods across the plaza. Ambient conversation is now ebbing at an arrival. An outsider in a grey, vaguely clerical uniform - sanguine, settled, precise eyes. He might be a prison warden but for the generally warm reception. He is known as The Community Director. His name is Barnes. He crosses to a lectern, unlooping a chain from his neck with a three-forked pendant known as a "tri-key". He slots the tri-key into the lectern. The glass wall frosts over and pixelates into a live feed of himself. Now amplified by the plaza speakers, Barnes begins his address.

"Good morning. To everyone here and everyone watching on Vidcom, welcome to the community address. Today I'm coming to you from Zone Four. For those of you here with sugar quotas, let me recommend the French toast. I just tried some and it's excellent, really. But I know what everyone's hungry for so let's move on to the lottery. As always the draw will be made from our host zone. So tell me, Zone Four - is everyone ready for The Daily Spin?"

Applause and whistles erupt, mostly from the younger residents, who take on the zeal of a game show audience. The older ones - including Jack - greet the prospect with borderline despair as they feel that they will never win. Barnes turns the tri-key in the lectern. The glass wall switches from the live feed to a jumbo Tron of flashing text;

**-DAILY SPIN!... GET READY TO WIN!... DAILY SPIN!-**

Barnes Let the Spin begin. To a burst of cheers, he turns the tri-key another notch. The glass wall becomes a spinning blur, like a tumbler on a slot machine. But instead of icons, it clicks through names, each separated by a blank line - from "Adams One-Alpha" to "Zucker Three-Charlie" - scrolling the entire population of Zone Four.

As the spin slows, a pent silence falls. Hopeful eyes watch the names click through the P's, the Q's, the R's, and the S's and...

**-SPIN WIN!... CARRINGTON TWO-DELTA... SPIN-WIN!-**

"Carrington Two-Delta! Step up!" Barnes calls out and cheers and applause as everyone looks for the lucky recipient. The excitement abates as it becomes clear he's not among them. "Well, Carrington, if you're watching on Vidcom - your time has come, my friend! You're moving out to The Island!"

More applause and yelling as Barnes waves his hands for quiet, "And the rest of you, never lose hope; what do we know about The Daily Spin?"

"Everyone gets to win!" everyone chants, as expected of them.

"And tomorrow it could be you" Barnes calls out then steps down and departs. The plaza reverts to its former mood, dotted with murmurs of disappointment. Jack scowls.

"Don't worry. Your time will come." Ianto reached for his hand.

"That's easy for you to say. Your time's guaranteed. All you have is six months." Jack muttered, pulling his hand back.

"Six months of mood swings, sore back and swollen feet. Want to trade places?" Ianto asked with a soft smile and hopeful hand still on the table.

"Give me some more of your coffee." Jack smiles back, returning his and for the clutch.


	2. winner

Neighbouring apartments with identical frosted facades. Then more apartments, above and below, the tiers linked by ramps and crosswalks. It might be a prison cellblock but there are no guards apparent.

Metal. All metal.

Indeed, the residents move freely, all notably male, all clad in slippers, polo shirts and slacks. It is just another day in Zone Four.

Music plays from overhead speakers. A glass wall looks out across a green mountain valley. The plaza, formed in curves of creamy ceramic tile, is divided into two service areas. Male residents in line on one side, female staff on the other. Both genders segregated in the area. Jack reaches the head of the line. He swipes his hub-cuff over a scanner.

A gruff woman in uniform, eyes the readout on her screen

**-Jack Six-Echo... Options are dried fruit, oatmeal or anything in bran.-**

"What?" Jack snarks as he looks at the selection sheet she pushes at him, "No bacon?"

"You got a sodium flag, pal - now what's it going to be?" she smiles sarcastically.

"Whatever." Jack shrugs, disgruntled.

The clerk taps her screen. Turning to a row of chutes behind her, she collects a foil covered bowl and a drink can.

Jack, less than appetized, loads his tray with the oatmeal and juice breakfast.

The little container of pills is offered and he tips it into his mouth while she watches.

Then he heads into the seating area.

In the seating area, male and females sit apart eating and chatting happily. Uniformed busboys intermix, clearing and wiping tables. A divide in this community now starts to become clear... The busboys, like the nutrition clerk, like all the service, maintenance, and administrative staff we'll see, have distinct uniforms but no wrist bands. They are known as "outsiders". The "residents", like Jack, have the matching polo shirts and hub-cuffs on their wrists. Mostly Caucasian, from mid-twenties to mid-sixties.

There are no children here.

A younger man, mid-20's, fresh, bright eyes, a fragile beauty who sits looking around the cafeteria then sees Jack looking from the end of the serving area, he smiles and waves. "Jack! Over here!"

Jack crosses, a little surprised to see him. Pleasantly so.

"Hello, stranger." Jack purrs as he slides opposite with his tray.

"What?" Eyes widen "You don't recognize me?"

"It's just an expression, that's all." Jack laughs as he settles in his seat.

"You and your expressions, Jack." Ianto snorts with an eye roll that Jack loves so much, "Now settle down and ask me where I've been."

Jack grins and leans forward "Okay, Ianto. Where have you been?"

"At the medical centre. Just for tests but they had me on liquid nutrition." He says and forks a mouthful of eggs, "Mmmmm. This is the first solid food I've had in a week."

"Exciting." Jack says as he watches the fork moving.

"That's not the exciting part. I got my first trimester report: happy, healthy and contaminant-free..." Ianto takes another mouthful and groans, "Both of us."

"Us?" Jack frowns.

"My baby... It's in perfect condition. I just hope I can keep it that way. I still have six months to delivery." Ianto sighed as he patted his flat stomach with excitement.

"Then you leave all this behind, huh?" Jack said softly as he stared at the stomach of his table mate.

"Why? Will you miss me?" His eyes betray a flicker of something. It unsettles Jack.

"I'll miss your coffee. C'mon, I already burned up my quota." Jack jokes and pretends he doesn't see the flare of something in Ianto's eyes that quickly fades.

"Okay. But this is the last time. They only allow me one a day now" In a deliberate move, he drops his fork on the floor. As he ducks down to retrieve it, Jack steals a gulp of his coffee. Rising again, Ianto registers his souring look.

"What is it?" Ianto looks around.

Jack just nods across the plaza. Ambient conversation is now ebbing at an arrival. An outsider in a grey, vaguely clerical uniform - sanguine, settled, precise eyes. He might be a prison warden but for the generally warm reception. He is known as The Community Director. His name is Barnes. He crosses to a lectern, unlooping a chain from his neck with a three-forked pendant known as a "tri-key". He slots the tri-key into the lectern. The glass wall frosts over and pixelates into a live feed of himself. Now amplified by the plaza speakers, Barnes begins his address.

"Good morning. To everyone here and everyone watching on Vidcom, welcome to the community address. Today I'm coming to you from Zone Four. For those of you here with sugar quotas, let me recommend the French toast. I just tried some and it's excellent, really. But I know what everyone's hungry for so let's move on to the lottery. As always the draw will be made from our host zone. So tell me, Zone Four - is everyone ready for The Daily Spin?"

Applause and whistles erupt, mostly from the younger residents, who take on the zeal of a game show audience. The older ones - including Jack - greet the prospect with borderline despair as they feel that they will never win. Barnes turns the tri-key in the lectern. The glass wall switches from the live feed to a jumbo Tron of flashing text;

**-DAILY SPIN!... GET READY TO WIN!... DAILY SPIN!-**

Barnes Let the Spin begin. To a burst of cheers, he turns the tri-key another notch. The glass wall becomes a spinning blur, like a tumbler on a slot machine. But instead of icons, it clicks through names, each separated by a blank line - from "Adams One-Alpha" to "Zucker Three-Charlie" - scrolling the entire population of Zone Four.

As the spin slows, a pent silence falls. Hopeful eyes watch the names click through the P's, the Q's, the R's, and the S's and...

**-SPIN WIN!... CARRINGTON TWO-DELTA... SPIN-WIN!-**

"Carrington Two-Delta! Step up!" Barnes calls out and cheers and applause as everyone looks for the lucky recipient. The excitement abates as it becomes clear he's not among them. "Well, Carrington, if you're watching on Vidcom - your time has come, my friend! You're moving out to The Island!"

More applause and yelling as Barnes waves his hands for quiet, "And the rest of you, never lose hope; what do we know about The Daily Spin?"

"Everyone gets to win!" everyone chants, as expected of them.

"And tomorrow it could be you" Barnes calls out then steps down and departs. The plaza reverts to its former mood, dotted with murmurs of disappointment. Jack scowls.

"Don't worry. Your time will come." Ianto reached for his hand.

"That's easy for you to say. Your time's guaranteed. All you have is six months." Jack muttered, pulling his hand back.

"Six months of mood swings, sore back and swollen feet. Want to trade places?" Ianto asked with a soft smile and hopeful hand still on the table.

"Give me some more of your coffee." Jack smiles back, returning his and for the clutch.

 


	3. create distance

The liner has docked and a sales group is disembarking. The men are mostly over 40, bloated by luxury. The women, mostly under 30, wives and girlfriends, all jewels and haute couture. They filter into the entrance hall to be greeted by the courtesy staff. Pretty girls in short skirts and blazers with the crosshatch insignia, led by a pert redhead named Lydia.

Lydia smiles "Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Lydia and on behalf of our staff, I'd like to welcome you to The Torchwood Institute."

"Before we start the tour, we'll be serving refreshments in the visitor centre and circulating our standard discretion agreements. I should add that today you are all very lucky because our CEO and founder, Dr. Henry Tazanaki, is with us and will be leading the tour personally. "

The crosshatch emblem spins on a wall-to-wall screen. Not a real screen but a projected flat known as a "Vidcom". Here, Lydia assembles the tour group, nursing wine glasses and canapes. The Vidcom fades up a serene music track and a commercial begins: A series of vignettes; an old man shuffling on a walking frame - a middle-aged woman in a bathing suit, one breast flattened by a mastectomy - a young woman in labour, her face knotted in pain. The group watches with frowns and disapproving mumbles.

"It's not a pretty sight, is it?" They turn to a figure behind them, dressed in a white coat - 60's, tall, slightly hunched by age, eyes like quicksilver, glittering. He has the hauteur of a visionary stooping to the role of a salesman. His name is Dr Tazanaki.

"Mortality." He said to the crowd, "We all know its face and yet we look away, don't we? We deny that our lives are ordained to suffering. That we are all, inalterably, going to die."

He pauses, fielding the various disconcerted looks. Then smiles. "It takes courage to confront mortality, my friends. And I see it in each of you. My name is Dr. Henry Tazanaki and I'm here to reward your courage."

Lydia applauds. The tour group dutifully follows suit. Tazanaki whispers a question in Lydia's ear. She broadcasts her response "Today's group is from New Gaza Health Care. They're with the platinum plan."

"New Gaza." He says with open glee, "Yes, very good oncology unit."

Tazanaki nods and she starts a new vid as he speaks "the enigma of growth, the alchemy that takes us from embryo to adult. So what do we learn from our mistakes? That human parts cannot grow outside a human body. That human bodies cannot grow outside nature's grand design."

A man, supporting his bulk with a walking stick, grunts "So what the hell are we doing here?"

Dr Tazanaki smiles reassuringly, "Let's say one day you go to your doctor for a check-up. He discovers you have imminent renal failure and require a kidney transplant. What would you do?"

The man snorted, "I wouldn't do nothing. My brother would give me one of his. Or else."

Dr Tazanaki nods "Even if your brother's kidney is without defect, there's still a 38% chance of rejection. Or less if he's your twin. "

"He's not. He's older."

"But what if you did have a twin?" The man's confused look makes Tazanaki smile and gently coaxes him to face a mirror. Their reflections stare back at them. "What if you had a genetic double who'd give you not just one of his kidneys, but both? In fact, any organ or body part you ever had cause to need?"

"What? You mean like a clone? I thought they said all that stuff was a bust."

"They said the problem with a clone is it doesn't survive infancy." Tazanaki corrected him, "The solution is to find a different starting point. Why sow the seed when you can create the fruit? Or what we like to call... an "agnate"."

Lydia starts clapping, then stops, realizing this wasn't a cue.

Tazanaki continues, "An agnate is sequenced from a point on the cellular timeclock. It is spawned post-maturate. It is 'created' adult. Of course, its brain is still vestigial so for the first three years we keep it in suspension. During which time we use data impression to supply a template for functionality - a process we call "foundation". After foundation we transfer the agnate into "containment" where it enters the conditioning process. An ongoing series of quality controls designed to test and maintain its functionality. After a minimum of two years conditioning, the agnate becomes eligible for harvest. And you, my friend, get your new kidney."

A hush falls among the group as they process what they've heard. It's a sign of the times that none of them seems to be horrified.

"Let me see if I got this straight. You can create this whatever... this walking spare parts holder... but I gotta wait five years to get hold of em?" the man asks with surprise.

"The spare parts, as you put it, need to be tested for integrity. But as many of our clients leave it till late in life to take out the policy, we do offer the option for early harvest. Given the risks, however, a waiver is required." Tazanaki agrees.

"So five years or no warranty? For the premiums you're asking?"

"And what if the organ you needed was a heart? Ask yourself, each of you. If you had to put a price on your life, your very survival - what would it be?" Tazanaki demands.

A deep lull as the group considers this. Tazanaki picks his moment. "It's a question your insurance company has already answered. For them, the agnate obviates costly and ineffective treatment programs. Should you decide to take out our policy, not only will they lower your existing premiums but they'll also cover the production cost."

The incentive ripples across the faces.

A troubled one speaks up "The "agnate"... what happens to it? After our friend here gets his kidney."

"That's entirely his decision. Our role is intermediary. We, as the insurance provider, guarantee the condition and availability of the agnate but all other rights are retained. In legal terms, the policy holder is defined as a "sponsor". The premiums, in effect, becoming sponsorship payments, maintaining the agnate until such time as harvest is required. At such time and where feasible, the sponsor has the option to extend sponsorship, retaining the agnate for secondary harvest or, shall we say, let the policy expire." Tazanaki shrugs.

"Expire? You mean... let it die?"

"No. Not as you and I know it, at least" Tazanaki laughs softly, "They are not conscious, their brains do not have higher function. The associations of life and death are no more applicable to an agnate than to a cow in a field. It exists in a state of limited consciousness - aware not of life but of functionality. Imbued with the knowledge to maintain its function but without the capacity to question it. And yet, in many ways, the end is the most humane part of the process. The agnate goes to harvest without any foreboding and is painlessly returned to the sleep from whence it came. Eternal or otherwise. There is mortality for an agnate. Just utility and redundancy. "

.

.

.

The foyer for the meditation rooms is slightly vaulted to accommodate a statue. On a bench at its foot, Ianto sits alone, waiting patiently. As Jack enters, he rises to greet him, smiling. He seems more sullen than usual.

"Sorry I'm late." Jack calls out as he runs over.

"It's okay." Ianto said softly. "I was waiting to tell you something anyway. Guess what?"

Jack looks at him, uneasy with his flourishing smile.

"My baby - I felt it move. And it's the weirdest feeling too." Ianto gushes, "I can't explain it. It's like being more... more here."

Jack returns a deadpan look. Ianto's smile wavers a little. "I'm sorry. I'm all excited and we're supposed to be finding peace of mind."

"I have to cancel, Ianto." His voice is expressionless.

Ianto shrugs, refreshing his smile. "So I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow?"

"I don't think so." Jack says softly as he remembers Rhys's warning about how close they're getting.

Ianto's smile falls. His eyes, reaching, trying to understand. "Did I do something wrong, Jack?"

"No." A small word but it comes heavily.

Before Ianto can ask another question, Jack turns and leaves. His jaw, clenching with the effort of self-containment. Ianto watches him, not hurt, just a little confused.


	4. Birthing rooms

The glass wall reprises the predawn light. The plaza is empty at this hour. But the service counters are staffed as breakfast is being prepared. The clerk looks surprised to see Jack arriving so early. He seems grim, latent, stiffly swiping his hub-cuff over the scanner.

She eyes the readout on her screen.

**NUTRITION CLERK Jack Six-Echo... Options are dried fruit, oatmeal or anything in bran.**

"I want some bacon." Jack asks.

"You heard the options." She said sadly and he sighs as he accepts a foil covered bowl and a juice can.

She pushes the pills over as he sighs.

After breakfast, without Ianto turning up, Jack turns toward the platform. Hearing a sound, he crosses to the safety fence.

"Hello? "His voice echoes to nothing. He leans over the fence and peers up the tunnel. There. In the fog of darkness, a figure. A figure paused, half-standing, like an animal on the brink of flight. The figure seems to stare at him. Then pulls upright. Now moving forward and into the light.

His face is dirty, eyes wild and bloodshot. A stranger to Jack, "Please..."

Jack stands, frozen by the sight of this dark, dishevelled resident. As he climbs up onto the platform, Jack sees his hands, the fingertips grated and bloody. He lumbers towards Jack.

"Please, you have to help me..." He rushes forward, grabbing Jack, pulling him close. "YOU CAN'T LET THEM TAKE ME!"

The stranger's eyes grow darkly, his pupils dreadful, black with enlargement. Jack fiercely shrugs off his grip, backing away... "Who are you? What's wrong with you?"

"Don't take the pills" he whispers and Jack steps back.

The stranger's eyes bore into him, obsidian. Face contorting, baring his teeth like a rabid dog. Suddenly he lunges at Jack-BOOM- ramming him back into the vending machine - Jack is stunned - suddenly a vice-like grip on his wrist swings him round-CRACK- into the Vidcom banner, webbing at the impact. For a moment, all is a blur. Teetering, Jack props himself against the wall. Then his focus resolves on the Vidcom and his fractured reflection. He releases a deep, bewildered breath. Then he notices his wrist.

His hub-cuff is missing, his skin grazed red from an abrasion. Confusion yielding to uncommon anger, he looks for his assailant. But the platform is empty. His jaw clenches.

The mad man rushes up to the Hub-gate. Hand shaking, he swipes Jack's hub-cuff over the scanner. The gate hisses open and he barrels through, suddenly seeing Jack pounding up from the well of walkways, charging forward like a bull. The gate now closing, Jack races for the gap, barging his way through. And the gate snaps shut with a bang.

Alarms sound and a red bulb flashes.

The man runs through the mess hall glancing off tables, sending chairs flying. Some residents, arriving for breakfast, scatter at his onset. Shocked faces, looking back and forth as Jack follows, in hot pursuit, vaulting the toppled furniture.

Security arrives "we block him and force him to ground. If you have a shot, hook him but keep it above the belt. Management doesn't want us to "damage the product"."

The Censors roll their eyes knowingly.

Their leader taps his headset. "hub-con? Zone Four North; code an exclusion for tri-key access. Then give me a full quadrant lockdown."

The lights shift spectrum from white to ultraviolet, bathing the quadrant in a lambent purple haze, his eyes bulging with panic as he races up the walkway, straining for a hub-gate at the far end of the floor the mad man runs as Jack closes in. A ripple spearing ahead of him to the end of the floor; now banking across the hub-gate and sealing the exit.

Sonic shots ring out and Jack crumples to the floor as the mad man slides around the guards and run again.

"You asshole! You hooked the wrong one!" the leader yells as he crouches to examine Jack. Blood is blossoming from a wound on his shoulder, jutting from which is a projectile. The censor presses its base and it snaps loose of its unintended target.

"He looked out of control" the man defends himself.

He produces a hyperaemic and jams it into Jack's leg, depressing it and waiting until Jack rears up, gasping for air as though resurrecting.

"Think you can walk, buddy?"

Jack nods slightly. The Leader unloops a keycard from his neck "You see this? It'll get you past the lockdown. You're to report to The Medical Centre. You understand?"

Jack stays where he sits, still dazed from the concussion. Absently he watches them race after the mad man.

.

.

.

" _Good morning - this is a community bulletin... Following an incident in Zone Four earlier this morning, The Department of Sanitation is issuing an all-zone contamination warning..."_

The residents gasp as they watch the Vidcom message flashing on every screen, Ianto among them.

" _The incident involved a resident found to be infected with a pathogen. While the risk is assessed, residents are advised to be aware of the symptoms. Should you experience aberrant levels of anxiety or witness it in others, immediately contact The Medical Centre."_

.

.

.The deep steady thrum of the extractor fans. An airlock. Hissing, it indents and opens. Jack steps through, eyes black and uncanny. The keycard glinting, dangling from his fingers. Scanning around, he fixes on a section of wall. He wipes off some soot. Legible beneath is a number. Twenty. He assimilates this. Then turns his gaze up the extractor shaft.

**50INT. ELEVATOR SHAFT**

Looking up an elevator shaft. The red pulse of the lode-poles, rippling downward as an elevator descends from the surface.

The elevator heads up.

A courier departs the car and his footsteps fade.

A metal squeal. A ventilation grid levers down from the ceiling. A pause. Then a pair of feet drop through, legs, torso. Dropping to the floor, Jack stands revealed. Sweaty, smeared black with dust. For a moment he looks around to get his bearings.

The footsteps are now coming back. Jack spins round. He finds a door. A lock panel. A moment of panic. Then he fumbles the key from his pocket, hurriedly slotting it into the lock panel.

Jack waits, ear to the door, listening as the footsteps pass and fade out of earshot. Jack releases his breath in relief, calming a little, then frowning as he registers another sound. Very faint, rhythmic. He turns and looks around.

The room is in partial shadow. To one side is a row of seats, to the other, a row of windows, covered by blinds, light creasing through. The sound repeats. Muffled. But now unmistakably a crying baby. A grid of bio-readouts, each square alive with graphs and digits. The familiar baseline of a cardiograph.

A doctor and nurse tend to a young man as Jack watches, unseen though the double glass of the observation room he wound up in.

Marked by his polo top as an agnate, the man has just given birth "May I hold her?"

"We have to run a few tests on her first. In the meantime, I'm going to give you something to help you relax, okay?" the doctor smiles, the agnate nods, anxiously watching the midwife wrap his baby in blanket. The doctor taps a button and watches the IV swirling with a pale coloured fluid.

The cardiograph marks the drop as the fast-acting sedative takes effect. The agnate watches drowsily as the midwife takes his baby from the room. Then the cry of the newborn is shut out. Just the cardiograph now, the beeps evening out, the pips shallowing as the agnate falls asleep. The doctor taps a button.

The grid square goes blank.

A pause.

Then the doctor taps another button. Text appears. Reading it, he cites "Let the record show the sponsor has signed Clause 22 of The Basic Sponsorship Agreement. Initiate compliance."

A light starts blinking. The doctor walks stiffly out of the room. The door hisses closed. The agnate is left alone. Sleeping peacefully, blind to the fluid now seeping into his IV. Deaf to the slowing beep of the cardiograph. The peaks of the baseline falling. Spacing, fading, slowing, slowing, until... The cardiograph flat lines.

Silence.

The lifelessness seeps through the glass.

Jack looks down from above, eyes frozen in the slatted light. His fingers are trembling, rattling the blinds against the glass.


	5. Ianto, run

Jack tumbles out of the door. He can't breathe, can't think, his mind is in overload. He stumbles around like a wounded animal.

.

.

.

The horizon. The green mountains in different aspect, framed by a different window. The bedroom is like Jack's but with a few feminine touches. Ianto, in his papery pyjamas, sits brushing his hair. With a chime he is alerted to a message, "Accept."

The Vidcom resolves Jack's face, dishevelled, urgent "Ianto... I have to talk to you."

"Jack? Are you okay? I was worried." Ianto says, placing the brush down with concern on his face.

"What are you talking about?" Jack asks with confusion.

"The contamination warning. Somebody said you'd been exposed." Ianto says and Jack pauses to process this. Hunted, more cautious.

They know?

"I want you to meet me as soon as you can." Jack begs, "But you can't tell anyone."

"Is it true? Were you contaminated?" Ianto rises with fear and Jack sees the wee bump as the top of his pyjamas is still crumpled.

"You know where to come." His face blinks out.

Ianto is left frowning at his reflection.

.

.

.

The routine flow of residents up the avenue. Jack walks, head bowed, trying to look inconspicuous. Showered, white shirt and blue slacks, he looks a little too scrubbed, too clean. He spots a familiar figure up ahead. He catches up. Rhys lets him fall into step with a look of mild curiosity.

"Hey, Captain. Are you alright? I heard there was a contamination scare." Rhys says as they walk together.

"I saw what happened" Jack hissed.

"What are you talking about?" Rhys scoffs then frowns, "You caught that fucking pathogen, didn't you? You're contaminated."

"Listen to me" Jack begs but Rhys just backs away. Jack makes to follow. Then stops dead in his tracks. Across the walk space two guards are on patrol and his best friend is now heading towards them. With a barren, torn grimace, Jack turns away and melts back into the crowd.

.

.

.

Rings of empty seats round the empty stage. Ianto enters warily, walking up the aisle. Jack waits in the shadows. He checks to see he hasn't been followed. Then steps forward.

Ianto recoils "Please... don't come any closer. I don't want to get contaminated."

"Ianto, I'm not contaminated." Jack assures him.

"But they said..." Ianto frowns.

"I'm not contaminated!" Jack growls and Ianto gasps at the tone.

His shout echoes through the empty auditorium. Ianto looks at him, alarmed by his vehemence. Jack calms himself a little.

"Contaminants, pathogens... it's just what they tell us to keep us inside." Jack says calmly.

"What do you mean?" Ianto whispers with wide eyes.

"I saw it. Why they keep us here." Jack risks a step closer, "To use us. To take things from us."

"You're not making sense." Ianto whispers as he reached a cautious hand out.

"Your baby... they're going to take your baby away... you understand?"

"My baby? Why would they do that?" Ianto frowns.

"I don't know! But I saw it!"

"You're scaring me, Jack... I want to go back now."

"You can't go back! Don't you get it?" Jack yells as he grabs him.

"Nobody move! Stay right where you are!" a guard steps into the light, sonic gun levelled. Ianto freezes. Jack hovers, mind racing. The guard moves in, tightening aim on him. Ianto looks on anxiously as he approaches Jack.

Jack now sees the man pulling out some plastic cuffs. Jack lunges at the guard ramming him - toppling him across the seats - knocking the sonic gun from his grasp - recoiling as a knee is driven into his groin, doubling him over - then a knee to his head.

"Don't hurt him!" Ianto screams, grabbing at the white uniform, trying to restrain him - the guard swings at him blindly - hitting him in the stomach.

The sound of Ianto's yelp galvanises Jack who attacks again, only to receive a blow, sending him to the floor.

Ianto is on the floor wincing at the pain, clutching his belly instinctively, protectively.

Jack cries out as the Guard begins kicking him down the aisle - then suddenly hearing a noise from behind - turning to face it as –ZAPPPPPP – the Sonic fires. The brief wail of the bulkhead.

Lurching against the bulkhead, the guard is starting to gag - blood jetting from his neck. He is gurgling, collapsing to the floor.

Ianto stands over him, holding the sonic gun - seeing Jack now getting up - he drops the gun like it's on fire, Horrified at what he has just done.

"Jack?" Ianto sounds dazed, like he's asking him what just happened.

They run.


	6. They're out

Jack and Ianto are running, then at another pressure door, fumbling the key into the lock. A tense second. The lock hisses open.

Reaching another pressure door. Footsteps audible. Jack jams the key into the lock. And waits. The seconds pass. But the door doesn't open. Jack looks around for another exit. Ianto looks at him in mounting panic then it finally opens, not onto a corridor but an elevator car. Pulling Ianto inside, Jack finds an array of buttons. His fingers hovers, uncertain which to press. So he punches all of them, stabbing madly, trying to prompt the door to close.

A guard turns a corner, seeing his quarry at the far end of the corridor, he gathers pace. The elevator is closing but he doesn't break stride. He deftly taps his headset, opening a channel "Hubcon! The elevator - override it! Do you read me? Bring it back down!"

Hubcon is working the console keys like a madman. His gaze flitting to a subgrid of the complex, spinning the angles, navigating the mesh of lines. His voice comes apologetically "You're off the grid, sir. Give me a second. Can you tell me where you are?"

He recoils at the blaring volume of the response.

The guard stands with his co-workers, poised, watching the panel chart the elevator's descent. A light flashes and the doors open. They level their sonic guns on... nothing. The elevator is empty.

.

.

.

A corridor paved with sound proofing panels. It ends at a pressure door, where Jack and Ianto now arrive. Jack looks back to the elevator at the other end. No going back. He slots the key into the lock. The door hisses open.

Amber light. The sound of slow bubbling. Jack and Ianto pause to adjust to the gloom. They are in a hall of windows. Ianto is the first to venture forth, as if drawn, to the nearest window. Behind the glass is a foundation tank. Bubbling with viscous fluid, laced with various tubes pulsing matter to and fro. The tubes connect to a form.

A human form, an adult form but curled foetally. It is known as a "non".

In this tank is a female non, shifting slightly, causing Ianto to gasp. The non registers the noise, turning its head. Its eyelids are closed but its eyeballs move, questioning. A slight furrow appears on its crosshatched brow.

Ianto recoils in sudden horror, perhaps remembering on some deep level that this is where he came from.

"Ianto! Come on!" Spurred to action, Ianto follows Jack onward up the hall. Still conscious of movement all around, of nons stirring at the sound of their footfalls like the ripples of a nightmare.

The nons within have cables plugged into their ears, filaments pulsing. The nons are in a posture of rigor, sinews straining as they accept the data impression.

Jack and Ianto pound on, aware that they have been heard and are now being monitored by another source.

.

.

.

"Nothing, sir. No sign." Hubcon informs the guard leader.

"They can't have got past this level." The Leader growls and peels off his headset, giving full leash to his senses, straining to concentrate.

Seconds of pent silence.

Then he hears a faint humming. His gaze slowly drifts up to a ventilator grid.

The funnel mouth framing a vista of the world outside.

A hostile vista of black sky, maelstroms of sand. The sound of blasting air, suborned to the giant howl of a dust storm.

A hand.

Reaching over the funnel lip as Jack pulls himself up with a mighty effort. Blinking, blinded by the sand, he swings straddling the lip. Then he reaches down to pull Ianto up.

Ianto gains the lip and likewise swings astride, coughing, blinking.

"A planet. We're on a fucking planet" Jack says with wonder, "Not space bound at all. The lying bastards!"

Jack helps Ianto down from the funnel. His feet meeting the earth, blinking at the prospect of the world outside. A world of darkness and storm.

Sudden light explodes the darkness. Jack shields his eyes, scanning for their source. He spots a large cubic building, banks of spotlights on the roof. He pulls Ianto away. Away from the lights and towards the safety of darkness.

The Leader is pacing on a catwalk. White uniforms above and below, flashlights roving, sliced by the blades of the extractor fans. From somewhere, comes a shout "Sir! We got em! Motion sensors just picked them up at the surface!"

More spotlights engage, their blaze flooding across the ground, catching two figures; Jack and Ianto, running, now, veering sharply away from the light. Now disappearing from sight, dropping into the trench of the roadway.

The elevator crammed with guards as it grinds upwards. The Leader at the front, staring ahead. He looks much focused, bitterly so. The look of a man outwitted by lab rats.

Jack and Ianto are running along in the dark now, stumbling over the rocks. Above them, the dust flails in lashing tongues, starkly depicted by the halogens.

Jack and Ianto scramble through the scrub, blinded by dust, driven by momentum. As Ianto starts lagging behind, Jack grabs his arm "Ianto! We have to keep going! It's the pills slowing you, they make you docile and tired all the time, come on. You can do it!"

But Ianto resists him, breaking loose from his grasp. Jack looks at him, uncomprehending. Until he sees his expression, the harrowed stare in his eyes, the laboured heaving of his chest.

"Ianto?"

Ianto staggers back, losing balance, reeling as if spun by the storm. His eyes widening, senses flooding. The howling wind, the swirling dust clouds, Ianto opens his mouth to speak. But all that comes is guttural cry.

A scream from deep within, shrill and hysterical, the only articulation he can find. Jack grabs him and covers his mouth. Fighting to stifle him, rocking to his convulsions. But Ianto keeps screaming. A scream of everything gone wrong.

.

.

.

All is still. Just a muted shudder of wind on glass. The room is in shadow. All we see is a bed where a figure lies sleeping. The still is disrupted by a chime. The figure stirs, fumbling at the nightstand. A Vidcom resolves, the light revealing Dr. Tazanaki, rumpled by sleep. He peers into the screen to find the face of Barnes, gaunt with concern "Henry... There's been a breach."


	7. A small hand up

Dawn. A brim of dawn over the red rocks. The view is framed by the mouth of a cave. Jack sleeps within, slumped against the rock, his head bowed heavily. The touch of first light opens his eyes. His frowning, as if waking from a bad dream into a worse reality. He looks around only to find himself alone. He gets up, a little shakily at first, then stumbles out of the cave.

He emerges onto a ledge, perhaps fifty feet up. He pauses, eyes adjusting to the quality of light. He sees the storm has reduced to a low wind, across the ledge, he sees Ianto. Perched on an outcrop, hugging his knees, watching the sunrise over the desert.

He crosses and lowers to a crouch beside him. Ianto turns to him with a confused frown "Where did all the green go?"

Jack looks deep into his troubled eyes.

He answers gently "There is no green. The windows in there... they were just pictures, memories of the planet we came from … or, our DNA did. I think, I think this is still the same planet. They've been lying to us."

Ianto absorbs this with effort. Jack rises again and stands looking out across the desert, into the barren unknown.

From the massive sky grows a glinting shape. Like a helicopter but sleeker, aquiline. Without combustion, its only noise is the 'schwick' of blades slicing air. It is known as a "Phantom".

The pilot jockeys with the thermals. The Leader rides shotgun. Now in civvies, scanning the terrain with electronic binoculars. The flight console beeps. He taps a keypad.

A Vidcom resolves "Ground team checking in."

"Anything?"

"The storm pretty much covered their tracks. We're scanning for thermals but the hotter it gets, the harder it is to isolate a heat signature. I don't know, sir, it's a big desert out there."

.

.

.

The desert sun clefts the chasm into light and shadow. Jack trudges into view, Ianto lagging behind. He stops to let him catch up, only to watch him slump onto a rock. He allows him a moment to rest and walks to where the abyss comes to an end.

He surveys the terrain.

His eyes look out over the carpet of scrub, now narrowing on an unpredictability. A faint strip where nothing seems to grow. Tracing its descent, he walks a few feet out. Then drops to a crouch and starts clawing away at the dust.

His fingers meet something hard. He sweeps off the dust to expose a layer of concrete. Continuing, revealing the ghost of a line. What was once a lane marker but a curiosity to him.

Continuing, opening a window in the dust. Now his fingers snag on something. He tugs it and it gives a little, dust crumbling to reveal a section of rusted chain-link. A corner of metal is visible. Jack exposes the rest.

A sign, barely legible: "US Government - Restricted Area". He frowns, trying to assimilate. Ianto comes up to join him.

Jack sees Ianto's anxious look, he decides "I think I've found a path."

.

.

.

The man steps from the outside toilet to see a figure in the swirling dust clouds "Hello?"

The silhouetted figure doesn't answer, just stares back at him.

"Can I help you?" This seems to get a response. The figure ventures closer. We recognize Jack. Exhausted, dust-covered and dry-throated.

"My friend... he needs water." Jack croaks as he motions to Ianto staggering behind him.

A mass of technology and furniture from recent and distant past fills the holiday cabin. Jack lowers Ianto onto a threadbare sofa. Clive, excited to have visitors, bustles up with a water gallon, pouring a glass. Jack takes it and tips it to Ianto's lips.

He coughs it out at first. Then takes the glass and starts drinking with strength. Clive sets down the water gallon in front of his visitors. Then settles in an armchair and cracks open a beer. It lends the mood, albeit strained, of a social visit. Lonely old Clive wanting to make it so. Despite which, both men have an eye on each other.

"Got stuck in that supercell, didya?"

Jack eyes him, wary of the question.

Clive reads confusion "Supercell storm, that's what they call it on the news anyways. In my day, we just called 'em "big ol' howlers"."

Clive chuckles to himself.

It seems to put his visitor at ease.

"Yep, I heard it shut down some of the roadways." Clive wants to fill the silences, "Dust in the works, I guess. Where were you folks headed anyways?"

Jack gulps down some water, deciding an answer.

Then ventures "Away."

"Away? You mean, like outta state?" Clive asks as he retrieves a second water bottle.

"Out of state"...

The term is meaningless to Jack but he likes the sound of it. Clive grins. This is starting to feel like a real social visit.

"Now where's my manners gone? I'm Clive. Osmund really. But folks call me Clive."

An awkward lull as Clive waits for his visitor to reciprocate. "Sometimes I like to make a joke of it, my last name bein' Deer... "O. Deer". Clive chuckles but the pun seems lost on his visitor. He lets it drop.

The awkward silence returns.

Jack drinks the water, wondering if this strange old man is as harmless as he appears.

"Well now, looks like yer friend's made hisself at home".

Jack looks at Ianto, slumped over, asleep on the sofa. Clive puts a finger to his lips, beckoning his visitor out of the room.

The porch light comes on, casting the scrapyard in grades of light and shadow. Clive steps out onto the porch, lighting a cigarette. His visitor hovering at the threshold, he offers the pack. Jack steps out and takes one. Clive lights it for him.

"Yer friend sure is fragile." His visitor looks at him curiously. Clive misinterprets that he's said something out of turn. Time to change the subject.

"So what's with them bracelets, huh?" Jack fingers his, suddenly aware of it now and suspicious of the question.

"Hey, in the eye of the beholder, right? Now this place, this is beautiful to me." Clive tries to cover the discomfort he has just caused. "This is my place. I own it. 'May not look like much but you'd be surprised. C'mon, lemme show you"

Clive moseys into the scrapyard, beckoning his visitor. Jack hesitates, then follows him, sensing it's better to play along.

"Most of this heavy stuff's industrial scrap. Comes in from all over. Easy way round the recyclin' laws. Me, I sell it on to the boondock boys for meltdown. Other stuff, I pick up at the scrap markets. Fix it up, 'fetches a price." They reach a vehicle shell. A rust-pocked chassis, canted on its axle, we might recognize it as an automobile from our own era.

Jack frowns. The term is familiar. The taste of smoke, a hint. But his memory has been clouded by trauma. Clive reads his face.

You okay there?" Jack looks at him, something breaking the clouds.

A sense of danger, indistinct. Suddenly cautious, he stubs his cigarette that he never even smoked "I'm going to check on my friend."

A front room turned into a front office. Piles of paper teeter atop junk furniture. A bankers lap we might recognize from our own era glows over a desk where Clive is rummaging, looking for something. He stops to peer through and check on his visitors that he has made a decision about.

The young man still lies asleep on the sofa. The man is sitting beside him armchair, head bowed, seemingly plunged in thought.

Clive re-enters the room and watches the two, "Whatever you want... Just take it... Whaddya want...? You want money...?"

His visitor frowns. Clive quickly unlocks a cashbox. He grabs some coloured plastic cards and offers them like meat to a lion. "It's all I got... Take it... just please... just keep him safe, I know what's in him"

His visitor takes a blue card, inspecting it like a curiosity. Then steps closer. "Out of state. How do I get there?"


	8. Closer to ...?

Sunlight blinks off a chain of carriages, travelling the trench. The overnight shuttle slits through the desert.

The sun is a muted orb behind polarized glass. Jack stares out of the window at the bleak new world blurring past. He's wearing Clive's big coat, his former clothes discarded for some of the old man's ill-fitting denims. Perhaps a disguise or perhaps just to shed the memory. He glances across at Ianto, dressed likewise, his hair teased instead of its usual coiffed care. He's dozing, head rested on the glass.

"Tickets" a voice asks and Jack looks at the man in uniform, uncertain what he wants. The ticket collector shakes his head. These two look like deadbeats.

"Adult fare is forty five currency units. Do you have the money, sir?"

Jack considers. Money. The word is familiar. He pulls out the blue plastic card. The man in uniform looks encouraged. He gives him the card, watching him slot it into a handheld device, which briefly flashes, then the card is returned. Jack sees a strip at the top is now transparent, like a depleted reservoir. He considers some more. Not so different from the transactions in the world below. Then he notices Ianto is awake and is looking at him. His bright eyes, dim and troubled, somehow accusatory.

"It's going to be okay, Ianto."

"Is it?" Ianto whispers sadly.

"We just need to get out of state." Jack says firmly.

Ianto, dejected, looks out of the window. Jack watches, knowing his troubles and knowing that he cannot relieve them.

Passengers climb the steps from an underground gloom. Jack and Ianto with them, jostled by the more certain flow. They cross the portal onto the street and stop, dazzled by the sunlight. Only to be dazzled again by the sudden, stunning prospect of the city... First there's the quality of light, a burning white, perhaps from depleted ozone, depicting everything in a surreal shimmer. Then there's the towers, darkly crystalline, facets of polarized glass rising to domes and spires, like monolithic fingers reaching for the sky. The traffic flashing past. Then there's the street itself, a six lane.

The citizens, strange hairstyles, fashions, all wearing sunglasses.

A dog barks.

Awe interrupted, Jack and Ianto look around. Slouched by the street as the dog rises to greet them. Tail wagging, it noses forward, sniffing. Then, abruptly, drops its tail and backs off, whining. Jack and Ianto likewise back off. Both sides have just discovered a new species.

The owner of the dog, a smelly wino, calls the dog back to the doorway he's slumped in.

Jack and Ianto wander in a daze up the street. Everywhere new sights, new oddities assault them... The storefronts, mysterious recesses behind polarized glass. The glass, alive with pixelated graphics, marquees: "Temps! Temps! New Tech Opportunities!" - "Beauty Therapy! Manicures, Dermals, Follicle Grafts!" - "Discount Legal Service! Class Actions Only!"

Service counter, seating area. Ianto is looking around like Alice In Wonderland. Jack comes up, out of breath.

"I told you to stay with me." Jack pants as he finds him.

Ianto is innocent, "I'm hungry".

"Okay. Okay" Jack agrees, realizing he is too. He plants Ianto in a seat and looks around. People stand in line transacting, receiving food trays. Not unlike nutrition plaza. Jack ventures to the counter. He offers the blue card hopefully.

"Are you gonna tell me what you want?"

"What are my options?" Jack tries with a grin.

"Knock yourself out, buddy." He indicates a menu above. Jack nods, looking up at the menu. Understanding now, his face lifts to almost a smile. It's the first time he's been given an unrestricted choice.

Jack returns to Ianto with a tray of food and drink. He's staring off again, distant. He puts a burger and drink cup in front of him. He seems not to notice.

"I asked the man how to get to the terminal. He said it's not far." Jack says but Ianto just keeps staring, his brow now creasing as a child skips past, maybe 11, sipping a soda. Now Jack sees her too and is transfixed. Now the little girl notices the strangers, staring at her. She hurries onward, uncomfortable. Jack and Ianto's eyes follow. It's the first time they've seen a child.

Sunlight falls in filtered shafts. Footfalls echo off polished granite. Jack and Ianto scan around. Back in the terminal, looking for a way out Ianto looks daunted by the space. Jack looks focused. He sees people in line. The sign on the window reads "Tickets". Jack computes. The word is familiar. He steps up to the counter with Ianto.

Jack offers the ticket lady the blue card. She seems not to notice. "Welcome to Phoenix Union Station. What is your date of travel, sir?"

Jack has to think. Dates mean nothing to him. He guesses "Now."

"And what is your destination?"

"Out of state." Jack says with more confidence.

"I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?"

"Like talking to a wall, ain't it"? Jack and Ianto turn to look. The new friend is pale, bald, wearing leather. He demonstrates, waving his hand across the ticket counter. It cuts through the ticket clerk with a holographic ripple. "First time I used one of these, I asked her out on a date"

He grins genially, examining their faces, verifying his quarry. Jack examines the pale man. The sense of danger is rising.

"What do you want?"

"Just wanted to help, that's all." Dells shrugs, disarming, trying to win them over, nice and easy per the mandate. Then he notices the eyes of his male quarry. The pupils, black and dilating. Suddenly the older male jerks away, like a shying horse, drawing the young male with him. Dells, unperturbed, makes no attempt to follow. Turning his back on them, he touches a device concealed in his ear canal, a miniature two-way radio.

"Burnie, it's them. East exit."

Jack and Ianto emerge into the walkway, re-joining the flow of figures. Jack presses the pace, alert, darting looks back. The pale man doesn't appear to be following. But the sense of danger is spurring him to gain distance. Ianto, new to the danger, stays close to Jack's side, scurrying to keep up.

Neither of them notices the grey vehicle sliding up on them, kerbside. A commercial transit van known as a "cutter", it's a common sight on the streets. The driver leans out of the window - hair tied back, dressed in buckskins, "You folks need a ride?"

Jack and Ianto turn to look. The dark giant is just another stranger, cast in a demeanour of casual inquiry. He's offering an opportunity to gain distance but Jack remains hesitant.

The sense of danger, turbulent, hard to read.

"Private cab. No state surcharge" The dark-skinned man taps a button and the side-door slips open. Jack looks into the lightless cavity, wavering, uncertain. Ianto, hugging close, nervous. Figures passing, jostling them toward the cavity. The dark giant, looking on expectantly. The pause stretching, then back by the doors "Hey! What the fuck are you doing, man? I told you! They went inside!"

The hobo who owns the dog doesn't see Jack and Ianto, unwitting that he's just betrayed himself as their shadow... and Lester as their predator. His dog starts barking. Jack starts backing away with Ianto, his eyes blackening, the danger surging, the dog barking, the giant's face dropping, the elements converging... They bolt.

Lester's pursuit is cut short by a parked vehicle - he swings a look back, jabbing his earpiece "North Corner! North Corner!"

They peel through people and Lester is pausing to touch his earpiece, then launching south down the walkway, as a man approaches jerking a pair of handcuffs from his belt, ready for the snatch.

Jack's eyes flaring as he swings Ianto around doubling back to find they are caught between the dark giant and the pale man, Ianto cringing to his side. the dark giant charging up on them - sunlight on metal - the sight of the handcuffs and Jack is swinging Ianto off the sidewalk and lowering him into the path below, leaping down to join him, traffic soaring past.

Jack leads Ianto by the hand like a child across the lanes, dodging, weaving through the gaps and a huge freight truck is bearing down, no gaps and the shadow engulfs them, the truck's hull runners shearing narrowly over their heads

Now Lester spots them, climbing up onto the sidewalk the far side of the street. Arty now arrives at his side, sweating, out of breath. Now seeing their quarry heading up the far side of the street, he turns to his partner, fury mixed with amazement "Why the fuck didn't you go after them?!"

Lester just looks at him, displaying the metal brace on his forearm. Arty, out of sheer frustration, gives him a hammering shove "Fuck!"

The refuge of shadow. Jack and Ianto run up the narrowed strip of sidewalk, forced into single file. A huge shape looms ahead. A garbage vehicle known as a "Dumper". Like a leviathan spreading its tentacles, the Dumper docks with the dumpsters and start sucking the contents out. Jack glances back to find Ianto has stopped and is cringing away from the tentacled monster.

He returns to him, his eyes flicking around, aware that their real predators are close "We have to keep going."

He takes Ianto's hand, drawing him onward. But Ianto recoils, shaking off his grip. Now he looks at him more closely. He's panting, shuddering, and tense with trauma. His voice is preoccupied "Please... Please, I want to go back"

He shrinks into the shadows, shaking his head. The hatchling wanting to return to the nest. Jack meets his eye, "Those men - that's what they want too."

Ianto holds his gaze, chest heaving. Then looks back towards the alley mouth. His fingers reach for his belly, clawing a little. Then his eyes lower, adjusting, reason reasserting its heavy grip. Jack senses his turmoil.

His voice is soft but sturdy "We have to keep going, Ianto love."

Ianto looks up at him again. The forlorn air seems to have faded. His eyes, grimly set. His face, a little haggard. Older somehow. He takes Jack's hand and they head off up the alley.

Jack and Ianto look around. Jack and Ianto step up to the ticket window. "Welcome to Grey Dolphin Bus Lines. What is your destination, please?"

Jack squints at him. Then wafts his hand across the counter. The ticket clerk flinches at the impact. Then composes himself. A trace of camp as he smiles bashfully at the rugged customer "okay. Really. I get that a lot. I'm sorry, now where were we again?"

"I want to get out of state." Jack tries again now he has a real person, "Now."

"Believe me, I know how you feel. So where did you want to go exactly?"

"Out of state" Jack repeats as he waves his arms.

"Just wherever the wind takes you, huh?"

"Where's that?"

"Well, if it was me, out to the west coast." The ticket man smiled, "its perfect this time of year."

Jack nods, liking the sound of this. The ticket clerk smiles, enjoying the acceptance of his suggestion, he ventures hopefully "Travelling alone, are we?"

"No. With him." He gestures, then realizes Ianto is gone from his side again.

 


	9. Mirror image

He scans the faces. The clerk, disappointed, taps some keys. "Two adults, let me see... I'm afraid I can't get you seats till the morning."

A grill bar. A rank of vending machines. Ianto moves through the seating area as if drawn. Now over the ambient noise, we isolate the cry of a baby. Ianto is following the sound to its source. He finds a blue woman shushing her infant. The woman looks up and smiles. Ianto just stands there, awe-struck. Jack now comes up to reclaim him. He's about to ask why he wandered off when he turns to him. He sees his eyes are brimming with tears.

Tears of joy and sorrow. It's the first time he's seen a baby.

.

.

.

Jack and Ianto sit waiting. Jack, rigid, watchful. Ianto, gazing across at the Mexican woman, who as the infant cradled asleep. Ianto glances wistfully at Jack.

Then he frowns "what is that? On your face?"

Jack turns, touching his face. He feels stubble there. For the first time. His body is naturalizing but it feels unnatural to him. Ianto's is doing the same.

Without the pills to control their natural development, they are beginning to produce hormones. Ianto reaches out and runs his fingers across his cheek. Jack stiffens a little, new to this type of contact. But his touch is gentle and the contact is warming. Their eyes slowly meet, flickering, something passing between them. Jack notes Ianto has the same peppering on his cheek and reaches to stroke it with wonder.

Then Ianto's face contorts slightly. He emits a shallow cough.

"Are you alright?" Jack asks as Ianto clears his throat. But another cough follows.

"My throat... it feels dry"

"Okay... I'll get you some water." Jack soothes but the grill bar is closed. Only the vending machines are active. Jack considers them. Not unlike those he used to know. He finds one that offers water bottles. The sign reads "Arctic Melt". He pulls out his blue card and looks for the slot. Then pauses, picking up his reflection in the glass. He examines the shadowy growth on his face. Then he notices his eyes. They seem to be darkening. The pupils, welling open. Then he feels it. The sense of danger, surging up like a geyser.

Ianto sits waiting, anxious now, coughing persistently. Hearing footfalls, he looks round. But the face that greets him is not Jack. It's the pale man, the one who chased them. Before he can react, he forcefully pulls him upright, tapping his earpiece "Piece of cake, Burnie. John Doe's in the bag. Keep an eye out for John-Boy."

Ianto looks around in panic. Faces turn but none of them are Jack's. Arty confronts the spectators, flashing a badge "Bond recovery... state license."

He marches his quarry towards the exit. Now he starts to struggle and he jerks him back, slapping a cuff onto his wrist "Play nice, little one. Now you want to tell me where your boyfriend is?"

"Behind you."

"What?" Arts squeaks as Jack's fist flies into the pale man as he turns - dropping him, flat-on-his-ass - pulling Ianto away from him. Arty is more insulted than hurt, targeting his quarry who suddenly duck down as he fires and the blue woman has her face peppered with tranquilizer core as her baby starts crying.

Ianto is horrified by the screaming woman, the bloody, slack grimace, the baby bawling and Jack pulling is him down as Ianto's last glimpse of the screaming woman and the howling baby disappears behind the corner Jack is dragging him around.

Jack and Ianto hurtle towards a pedestrian bridge trying to outpace their pursuers, Lester levels his weapon, angling a shot.

Jack pulls Ianto across the road, vehicles braking to avoid collision as Jack sees an opening ahead. They run onward, glancing off dumpsters. Arty and Lester pouring on the speed, their quarry with nowhere to run then Jack sees another opening.

A narrow access, barely lit, hard to see is a sudden dead-end and they hit a chain-link fence, the links shuddering. Jack looks up and sees it's scalable, fingers grab into the links as he climbs. Ianto tries to follow but is shaken by coughing, fighting to breathe, his limbs shaking, his muscles failing then the fence is suddenly alive with electricity and Jack is jolted by the sudden shock, muscles in reflex - falling - landing the far side of the fence.

The jolt instantly toppling Ianto back, landing the near side of the fence more rattled than hurt.

Recovering from the fall, Jack rises to see Ianto cowering, coughing as Lester yanks him up by his hair like a greedy Viking - he looks through the fence at Jack - sniffing him, almost devilish.

"Go ahead. I'll look after him" he calls to Jack.

Ianto is coughing, barking as his fingers snag on the man's arm-brace and Lester yelps, flinging Ianto into the fence and dropping the weapon and Jack is clambering up the fence forced to face the dark giant who is already on his feet.

A storm of punches thrown at Jack by his attacker, ducking and blocking until he is now backed up against the fence.

Ianto has the weapon, trying to work the mechanism while coughing with hands shaking and accidentally touching the trigger. Enough of a distraction for Jack who lands a punch and Lester cracks the back of his head, his knees buckling and then the quarry is lost from sight.

Jack and Ianto race down the sidewalk, along a construction hoarding. Ianto slows, folding over, panting. Jack looks at him, his lips, blue, his face, pale. The sirens, getting louder. He sees a gap in the hoarding.

Jack and Ianto emerge through the gap onto a derelict site. A once public park, now a construction site. Mounds and craters of earth. Dim shapes of huge vehicles, like sleeping dragons. Patches of parkland, as yet untouched. Bowed palms, dead grass, a stagnant lagoon, a dull mirror for the ascendant moon. On its shoreline is a dilapidated construct that was once a boathouse.

Jack helps Ianto onto a rotted bench. He slumps down, exhausted, Jack watches him, helplessly. He's fighting for breath, wheezing and coughing in deep rasps. "I can't... I can't breathe... my throat... it's so... dry"

"I'll find you some water." Jack promises and hunts, finds a rusted metal box. Pries it open, empties the contents. Gauzes, Band-Aids - evidently a first-aid box - then a bottle. He opens it, sniffs. It smells pungent. Alcohol, not water. Ianto suddenly starts sobbing. Jack return "It's going to be okay, Ianto."

"No... no, it isn't" Ianto gasps out painfully.

"I'll find you some water, okay?" Ianto looks up at him, wheezing, tears streaming

"What if they find us?"

"Then we'll keep going." Jack answers as he folds Ianto into his arms.

"I can't... I can't run anymore" Ianto folds over, sobbing and coughing at the same time. Pitiful to watch. Jack crouches, gaining his attention.

"We'll keep going till we get there" Jack says slowly and Ianto traps a sob, reading his eyes, something reviving in him.

"The Island... You mean, The Island?" Jack answers with a brief smile. If this will keep him going then the truth is redundant.

"Now I'm going to get some water. But I want you to stay here. It'll be safer." Jack slowly releases him.

Ianto wipes away his tears, sniffing. He breathes, calming. "Don't go yet. Stay with me, Jack. Stay with me for a little while."

Jack looks puzzled by Ianto's request. Even more puzzled as he rests his head on his shoulder, nestling into his neck. He feels him against him. The warmth spreading through him again. His arm reaching, as if of its own accord, closing around him. It feels right somehow. And there he stays, holding him, looking out across the dessert.

.

.

.

An apartment building towers overhead, vaguely menacing. Jack approaches the entrance with Ianto. We now see he has a pale patch of skin where his wristband was, so does Ianto.

The doorman opens the door and holds it for them. Jack reaches for Ianto's hand. Then stiffly leads him inside. Jack and Ianto proceed up the corridor. They stop at a door. Jack checks the number. Pauses heavily. Then looks for some type of doorbell. As his eyes cross the orb, it seems to blink. Then comes a sound of disengaging locks. Then the door swings open. Jack flinches, taken by surprise. Then frowns as he sees there is no one on the other side of the door.

Jack enters, wary, scanning around. A living room. Framed pictures. A sofa, chairs. A coffee table, empty bottles, cigarette packs, a full ashtray. A bureau, some paperwork. Silence, stillness. No sign of life, no sense of danger. Jack moves across to the bureau and starts leafing through the papers. Ianto ventures in through the door, curious "What are you looking for? Why are we here? What is this place?"

"I don't know." Jack mutters, "Something. Just wait there and make sure nobody's coming."

As he leafs the papers, Ianto waits dutifully by the door. His eyes wander across the framed pictures. Then narrow onto a 3D photograph. A college boxing team photo, grinning cup winners. "Look at this"

Jack returns as Ianto points to the photo. A face in the row, blurred but eerily familiar. Jack seems not to react. Ianto, curiosity piqued, scans the other pictures. "Thomas R. Jackson, Attorney-at-Law".

"What the hell are you doing?" Jack turns to confront someone in a robe. Dishevelled from sleep, grey from a hangover, the man's face is unmistakably his own. This is Jackson, sponsor of Jack Six-Echo, his bleary eyes now widening in disbelief as he recognizes his agnate.

Jack is better prepared for this encounter but still stunned by the sight of his double in the flesh. Sponsor and agnate stand frozen. The only movement is Ianto, his eyes flicking between the same men, fraught, confused. Jack breaks the silence "Who are you?"

Jack steps closer, eyes piercing. Jackson takes a step back. "They said... I'd never have to see you."

"Who?" Jack takes another step closer.

"The people"

"What people?" Jack takes another step closer. Jack examines him, adapting. His double seems to be as belligerent as he is. Reasoning now, threat response kicking in. Jack draws the hunting knife. Unused to it, he points it like a gun. But it's enough of a threat for Jackson, who swallows dryly.

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

Jack growls softly.

Jackson gapes. That face. His face. If not for the pounding headache this would be a bad dream. He lowers onto the sofa. Finds a cigarette and lights up. A drag, mind kicking in. The knife cautioning him. With a slow exhale, he confesses "One of the partners at my firm... he told me about it. Gave me a referral. I thought he was joking at first. I went out there, took the sales tour. Even before that I knew it wasn't a joke. There was this discretion agreement. I never saw anything like it and I've seen a lot. Ironclad... breathe a word and they've got you by the balls. I don't know... There's cancer in my family. Maybe it was just to keep up. All the partners were on the policy."

"The policy?"

"Christ, you have no idea, do you?" Jackson snorts.

"About what?"

Jackson drags his cigarette, fingers trembling. He shakes his head "I can't fucking do this."

"What are you talking about?" Jack moves closer, pointing the knife.

Jackson flinches, then "Insurance. You're an insurance policy."

What is that?"

"Health insurance... medical" Jackson huffs, "If I get sick... if part of me gets sick... I take a healthy part from you."


	10. First kiss

"Why?"

"How do you expect me to answer that?" Jackson laughs hollowly, "It's just how it works that's all."

Jackson looks at his agnate. The insistent stare. The knife, pointing at him like a finger. His fear yields to a flicker of anger "What do you want? A fucking apology?"

"Why do I look like you?"

"Because you are me" Jackson sighs.

"I don't understand."

"Because they made you from my cells" Jackson growls as he loses his temper, "That's right. You were made. Cooked up in a soup like a fucking boiled egg. Every thought running through your head, every word coming out of your mouth, all of it, manufactured, made."

"You need something to eat? Drink?" Jackson made to move from the couch.

"And then you'll call security?" Jack asks as he watches for the dropping of the eyes. The tell that Ianto pointed out, always told him when Jack was about to lie.

Then suddenly Jack lashes out. His fist sends his double flying, falling in a flurry of contract pages. Jack stands over him, looking down, like a dominant species. His double is unmoving, unconscious. Jack abruptly spins away.

They flee.

A light panel flashes. Jack stands grimly, head lowered, trying to fathom the anger roiling within. Ianto stares at him, wanly. Both held in the dark tableau.

And the elevator descends.

The vehicle parked in bay 53 is a hybrid of sports car and speedboat, a two-seater known as a "skiff". Jack and Ianto climb in. Jack reviews the drive console, the controls, all of it, meaningless. His eyes cross an orb set in the steering wheel. The orb seems to blink and suddenly the drive console lights up.

Jack examines it futilely. A message in front of him starts flashing across the windscreen: "PILOTING: MANUAL/AUTO?"

He considers and glances at Ianto who is huddled in the other seat. Then ventures "Auto?"

The interface processes, then asks: "DESTINATION: NAME/ADDRESS?"

"Out of state." Jack says, then frowns, "West"

The interface processes, then reports "UNDOCKING".

Jack and Ianto jolt as the skiff shunts forward. The skiff moves out, as if pulled by a phantom tugboat.

The skiff buckets off the ramp into a street inlet. Then stops rocking a little. The interface reports: "ESTABLISHING UPLINK".

On another screen, a road map appears. A red dot plants at their point of origin then drains into a red line, plotting a course. The autopilot scans for traffic, then nudges forward on the throttle. The engines drone, the steering wheel turns and the skiff noses onto the street.

Finding its lane, it drops to cruise speed. Jack studies the interplay of steering wheel, throttle and brake. Then glances at Ianto who turns to him with a frown.

"The man back there..." Ianto says softly, "who looked like you... does it mean I have someone too?"

Jack looks at him blankly, unknowing. Ianto stares off again, his brow knotting with unanswered questions. But Jack's gaze remains. His pale skin, his crystalline eyes, his hair fluttering around his hairline in the breeze. It's the first time he's really seen Ianto's beauty.

The skiff plunges into the shadow of an underpass.

The interface flashes: "UPLINK INTERFERE... AUTOPILOT DISENGAGING".

Jack sits up, confused. The skiff is now slowing, drifting as if cut loose. He studies the controls again. Positions one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the throttle. Then he nudges it. The skiff lurches, veering out of its lane. Another vehicle zips narrowly past, rocking them with its invisible backwash. Ianto looks at Jack, suddenly alarmed. Jack tries again, firm on the wheel, gentle on the throttle. And the skiff eases forward.

The sunset melts gold across the horizon as the skiff cruises westward. Jack is driving more confidently now. Ianto is huddled asleep beside him. Suddenly the skiff starts to slow again. Jack reviews the controls.

Throttle, forward, foot, off the brake. The interface flashes: "REMOTE LOCKDOWN ENGAGING".

The skiff is steering itself onto the hard shoulder. It now pulls to a dead halt. Ianto is woken by the sudden inertia. He opens his eyes and looks around. They've stopped in the middle of nowhere.

"Jack?" he asks with confusion.

"I think they jammed it somehow, remotely turned it off" Jack says, pulling Ianto from his seat, "That might mean they can track us."

Jack and Ianto walk across the salt flats. Visible in the distance is a walled settlement.

They reach the wall and look for an entrance, Ianto pulling at panels of steel at intermittent intervals.

Then he turns to Jack with a soft smile. Then squeezes through a gap.

A ring of clay brick houses. It is obviously a display of medieval houses for tourists. Ianto rushes up, looking into the open windows as if expecting to find them inhabited. He ducks into one of the houses. Jack follows him inside.

The mud walls show a skeleton of saguaro ribs, tree branches. It's cosy in here, dim. The living area, recreated with mats and pottery. Jack finds Ianto looking around, between excitement and confusion.

Ianto turns to him, his voice wavering, as he wheezes "Is this... is this place The Island?"

Jack answers with a soft "no."

Ianto's face slowly falls, the energy draining from his eyes. He lowers onto one of the bed and lies down, huddling. He looks up to Jack, wheezing "I'm tired. Let me rest for a while."

Silence prevails but for the faint rattle of Ianto's breathing. Jack sits on low stool, to watch over him as he sleeps. In his eyes, we see the weight of foreboding. He doesn't know what they'll do when he wakes.

A moaning sound, he looks at Ianto. Then realizes it isn't coming from him. The sound is far off, a rhythmic moaning. Now discernible as the chant of voices.

Jack follows the sound to a blazing fire. Figures in silhouette, moving around, chanting.

A group of people are having some sort of hippy style, pagan ritual in the moonlight.

Off to the side, a group of horses are waiting, shuffling, snorting. Jack approaches, cautiously, but somehow like a moth to the flame. He stops at a distance, watching.

"You look a little lost, my friend."

Jack turns to a figure emerging from the night. A tall man - swarthy skin, dark eyes. "Or did you come here for a reason?"

Jack examines the tall man. The face seems as deep and gentle as the voice. His sense of danger, unstirring, he concedes "I was looking for water."

"Not the best place to look." The man smiles.

"My transport..." Jack explains, "It stopped working."

"I see. And where were you going?" the man asks as he looks in the direction Jack came from.

"Out of state" Jack sighs, the destination seeming very far away.

Grey considers him. This bruised, weary outsider is somehow childlike. He motions for Jack to follow him towards the group.

The fire blazes across the face of a shaman. Old, gnarled, and dry as the salt flats. With a sacred mutter, he slips a peyote button onto his tongue. Then flings back his head, casting his eyes to the stars. When he lowers his head again, we see his pupils dilating. He rises, chanting, moving in ceremonial steps around the fire. People sit in a ring, joining the chant. Beyond the ring, others are dining at a roasting pit. Roast rabbit. Cornflour bread. The food is as it might been two thousand years ago. Only the sight of plastic water gallons breaks the illusion. Jack stands apart with Grey, eating ravenously, gulping from a water gallon.

.

.

.

Ianto stirs from slumber. On the ground beside him, he finds a bowl of food and a water gallon. Now through the gloom, he sees Jack, sitting on the stool like he never left, keeping vigil.

Something seems different about him as he turns, registering Ianto's wakefulness, "Are you alright?"

"I feel better after I sleep." Ianto answers and Jack nods absently and stares off out of the doorway. Ianto moves closer, sensing something. He doesn't understand what it is or what caused it.

Jack is in despair and it evokes a response in him. A feeling, taking him over. His hand reaches out and strokes Jack's hair.

Jack looks up at him, questioning. With supreme knowing, Ianto leans down and kisses him. At the touch of his lips, Jack pauses.

The first kiss for both of them but Ianto takes it in his stride. The calm ballet of nature. Fluidly peeling off his shirt, pale alabaster skin glowing with moonlight. Jack rising to face him, feeling his proximity, his radiant heat.

His fingers touching his skin. Ianto trembling, his lips once more finding his. Jack closing his eyes, the rush of sensation, overwhelming. He yields to it, returning the kiss, with hunger, with passion...

with love.


	11. What are we doing?

Ianto is panting as Jack licks at his neck, enjoying the sensations his fingertips are picking up and Ianto's skin seems to shimmer with delight.

"Jack" a breathy sigh as Ianto's eyes flutter shut.

Jack is overcome, plastering himself against Ianto well aware of the small bump between them.

Lips crush together and they cling to one another like two lost souls adrift at sea.

Their dicks rub together, both of them reaching down to cup and caress as they become frantic in their need to connect to each other in a way they never knew they could.

Wave after wave crashes and Ianto is the first to cry out, throwing his head back as he is bombarded with emotions and pleasure.

Jack grunts and grabs him close, mistaking his orgasm for some sort of fit, Ianto clamping his hand as he comes, and creating Jack's finality as well.

Both men are gasping, crying out and writhing against one another as they cum and then finally roll apart.

Ianto sleeps in Jack's arms as he stares at him with wonder.

.

.

.

High above the traffic in the canyon, on the south rim of the canyon, we find Jack and Ianto. Ianto is no longer wheezing but rasping. He looks down at a passing vessel, daunted. Jack offers him small comfort "Don't worry. The one we want goes the other way. He said it goes slower."

They exchange a smile. The chain of containers tailing off, the barge leaving the canyon with a blast of its deep horn. Jack and Ianto descend the rocky slope toward the lode-canal. Ianto stops, having to catch his breath every few steps. Jack tries to hide his concern, looking away towards the sunrise. The westbound vessel will be coming soon.

They just need to get out of state... Now he frowns, sensing something. Faint but growing. His jaw clenches. His face tightens. His pupils start to dilate.

Arty and Lester get out of a far transporter and look down into the canyon. Jack was right, they tracked them using the bloody Skiff. Arty pulls out his scope and starts panning. Lester peels off his jacket. It's early but it's already getting hot.

Arty now pauses, handing him the scope "Up there in the rocks. Three o'clock. I'm not sure... it could be nothing."

Jack and Ianto hide in the shadow of a rock. Ianto is muffling his breaths as best he can. Jack now hazards a look over the top. Two figures are climbing down the far side of the canyon, now pointing in their direction. He ducks back, thinking.

Hiding, no longer an option. Nor running, at least for Ianto. His face sets in a grimace of conviction. His eyes glow darkly.

Arty and Lester reach the foot of the rocks. Neither speaks, communicating in hand-signals. Arty slips into the lode-canal. Lester covers, sweeping the thunderbolt across the south face. Arty emerges from the far side of the lode-canal. He stays low, moving up into the rocks. Then, from above, a rock dislodges, rattling down.

Arty reacts instantly, targeting, opening fire.

The shots from the rainmaker swathe across the rock. The Sonic Rifle now adding to the barrage, Lester firing from the far side.

No sign of movement. Just a slide of rubble. Fading echoes.

Arty peers into the fog of dust, the sunlight and shadow playing tricks on his eyes, then suddenly Jack rushes him from the left tackling the pale man, both of them toppling and tumbling down the slope.

The impact throwing up a billow of dust, Arty and Jack struggling, clawing, punching but Jack, with surprise on his side, gaining with the upper hand until Arty discovers Jack's knife, tugging it from his jacket. Jack grabbing his wrist, fighting for control but Arty with better leverage and the blade is inching towards Jack's face, pressing into his cheek.

Ianto screams and raises the Sonic Stunner he has kept in his boot, his hands shaking as he fires.

Arty slumps back, the pale man seems to be out cold but Jack's not sure as he pauses holding the blade over him, then Ianto is running and Jack rises to run after him.

Lester is running along the edge as Arty gasps awake and rises with a roar of rage, causing Lester to lose his footing and slip.

"NO!" Lester screams and Arty lunges to grab at him but Lester is lost, free falling down to the traffic below.

Arty, stunned, just looks at his hands, empty and shacking.

Jack re-joins Ianto casting a look back as the eastbound barge is now approaching into the distance.

Arty looks over, spotting his quarry with fire in his eyes, drawing out a boot-knife and slipping it between his teeth as he begins to slide down the ravine.

Jack pulling Ianto along - struggling to match the pace as they try to catch the transporter and as rocks tumbles down from above, they look round to see Arty running parallel, the blade in his teeth with arms spread for an instant, like a vulture against the sun.

Jack is felled by the weight of his landing and Ianto is thrown into a ditch, lost in a cloud of dust.

Arty is astride of Jack snatching the knife from his clenched teeth and he suddenly grabs Jack by the scalp and tugged sideways.

Arty' face set in a murderous sneer, he wants to see this fucker's face but suddenly Jack is seeing the face of death as the sun is now catching the brief glint of the knife as slicing into his neck as he throws a hand up in defence.

Jack's deepest instinct is suddenly awoken as every impulse, every fibre brought into alignment … survival!

Jack surges upward as Arty tumbles backward into the dust losing hold of the boot-knife.

Jack knows he must protect the lovely man still stunned in the dirt behind them. He tries to reach him but only makes it half-way as Arty's fingers find metal, the boot-knife which he brings it up slashing at Jack and the blade nicks his face.

With a rage Jack is grabbing the pale man by the arm, swinging him round into the westbound barge as it passes.

Arty bounces off, stumbling to keep balance as Jack tries to reach Ianto again. Ianto is now on his hands and knees as he tries to get up.

Jack looks back, seeing the pale man coming at him with the knife, another nick and Jack is seeing a gap now, shoving him backwards and Arty howls as he is snagged by a bolt.

He lunges at Jack with the knife and Jack kicks out, no bouncing back this time as Arty has hit a gap between the containers and his head is torn from his body.

The headless body is spun by the moving wall, dropping into the trench as the barge tails leaving the canyon.

But there is Ianto, running after it, vainly, coughing and sputtering.

"Ianto! Stop! It's no use!" Jack yells as he runs after him.

"We have to... get to... The Island..." Ianto pants, crying as he misses a handhold again.

"It's going too fast!" Jack sobs as he stops running and starts to walk morosely.

We have to... get to..." Ianto staggers a few more steps, then collapses to his knees, rasping for breath.

As Jack reaches him, he slumps back into his arms. Ianto's head lolling, eyes rolled back to white, a drool of blood spilling from his lips. Then the blast of a claxon cuts the air as the westbound barge disappears into the distance.

"Ianto?"


	12. You are ... but you're not

A ranch home in the middle of nowhere. Long shadows. Late golden sunlight through a mist of sawdust. Abstract wood sculptures are visible. Juniper wood, carved along the bias of the grain, polished to accentuate the curves of natural growth.

An elderly lady runs a sander over a work in progress - 60's, in coveralls, grey hair tied back, her face shielded by goggles and a bandana. She pauses to review her work, shutting down the sander, slipping off her goggles and bandana. Her face is eerily familiar.

Her name is Rhiannon. She now moves to the window, catching sight of something outside. Curiously, she watches a vehicle coming down the long driveway. A dusty, grey cutter. Lester's ride.

Rhiannon opens the front door. The cutter is now docked in the port and a stranger is staggering towards her. In his arms, is an unconscious man. Now Rhiannon can see the face - younger, but unmistakable even so.

Her voice comes in a chilled whisper "Oh, God... Oh, my God"

A floral bedroom. Ianto lies in bed, wheezing, semi-conscious. Rhiannon slips a pill between his lips and tips in some water. Jack stands watching. Rhiannon ushers him out of the room.

The kitchen is arrayed with modern technology but softened with paintings and craftwork. Art marginally overwhelming science. Rhiannon starts making some herb tea in the traditional manner.

Photos show a younger Rhiannon along with some of a little Ianto grinning for the camera never seen together. Jack sees the photos of Ianto stop around puberty, and funnily enough, it's where Rhiannon's start. Different stages of life suggest siblings, Jack wonders if she was adopted if not for the fact they are so similar it would seem she 'arrived' one day in her teens.

"What did you give him?" Jack asks as he watches familar hands work, just a bit older.

"Just something to help him sleep. I think he has a bronchial infection. But I'm not sure I should give him an antibiotic in case it effects the baby." She answers.

"So you know about the baby" Jack asks and Rhiannon pauses, reality sinking its claws. She looks at him.

"Isn't that why you came here?" she turns to look at him with surprise, looking like Ianto around the eyes.

"I found your name in the listings. I wasn't sure. You don't look like him." Jack smiles, "For a start. You're a girl!"

"They have a plan... For women like me" she states.

"So you're the one who takes his baby." Jack sighs as Rhiannon winces at him.

She pauses, hanging her head, searching within herself. "You know when you're young? How you run around thinking you're immortal?"

Jack's look says he has no idea. She seems not to notice. "There was an accident. I was... damaged. I was born a boy but in my heart, I knew I was supposed to be a woman. To be me. I hated my male body and thought this would save me. Now I look in the mirror and wonder why I bothered. After that, I thought no man would ever want me. I was wrong. His name was John. He said he married me for my eyes. Eyes to drown in, he called them. He always loved the ocean. Up there on the wall, that's John's boat."

Off her gesture, Jack glances at the wall. A watercolour of a yacht. Meaningless to him but Rhiannon gazes it at, fondly "But I think there was always an unspoken regret between us. When we heard about the technology, it was like... forgiveness, like a second chance. A child of our own, part of both of us. Sailing trips, fishing trips, so many plans..."

She turns and wipes her face, "John got cancer a year ago. He died."

Her eyes mist, distant and bittersweet, talking to herself now. "Ironic. That the same technology could have saved his life. And now the baby is the only part of him I have left. And the boat. I still have the boat."

Jack looks discomfited. There's more to this than he thought.

A slant of light falls across Ianto, writhing in his sleep, rasping. Rhiannon and Jack peer in through the doorway, checking on him. Then Rhiannon quietly closes the door.

Jack paces around, feeling useless. Rhiannon considers him "What do I call you?"

"Jack. My name's Jack" he stops to look at her.

"Jack, I think he needs professional help. I think he needs to see a doctor"

"No. They'll find him." Jack barks with fear, "They'll take him."

"Not if I don't want them to." She shakes her head.

"You don't understand. They don't want people to know about him." Jack steps closer as he tries to explain, "Either of us."

"The doctor I'm thinking of, he's an old friend. He look after John in the final stages. I trust him."

"Why? So you can take his baby?" Jack narrows his eyes.

"No. No, that's not what I want." She defends herself but sees Jack's blunt look, she sighs, lowering into a chair. "Maybe I didn't realize he'd be so... Maybe I just didn't want to. Either way, I was wrong. I want you to know that. I was wrong... And I'm sorry. It took so long to create him and in between me and John signing up and now, I lost the reason for the baby."

A heavy lull. Jack hangs his head, remembering. "They make you believe there's a place called The Island. Then they take you upstairs and put you to sleep. They cut you open. They take pieces of you."

Rhiannon looks at him, thinking. She allows a pause, then "Even if I had taken his baby, I swear to you, I'd never have... They give you a choice, you see, to extend the sponsorship after... after delivery."

"No. I saw a lot of us go to The Island." Jack snorts, "But I never saw anyone come back."

"You mean... Even if I had extended the sponsorship, they'd have... and kept taking the money? But that's inhuman."

"Is it? I wouldn't know." Jack snarls, turning to check on Ianto again.

.

.

.

It's dark as the vehicle pulls up at the ER entrance, Jack at the wheel. Rhiannon gets out of the passenger side. A doctor is waiting. 50's, caring face. His name is Dr Smith. He looks curiously at the man at the wheel. Then greets Rhiannon with a hug.

"Rhiannon... It's good to see you. I haven't seen you since John's funeral." He greets her.

"Well I've been keeping busy. Trying to. Thanks for coming down to meet me."

"Your call was a little cryptic. What is it exactly that's wrong with you?" he smiles as he keeps hold of her elbows, continuing the embrace.

"It's not me... Not exactly." She opens the rear door of the Vehicle. Ianto is lying on the back seat. Dr. Smith frowns as he notices the resemblance.

Jack stands waiting. There are chairs but he's too tense to sit. Rhiannon and Dr. Smith now enter. Jack looks at them, expectantly. There's a pause.

Then Dr. Smith speaks "Your friend... he has pneumonia. At a very advanced stage. Its progress has been unchecked by his immune system."

"Can you help?" Jack asks nervously.

"We have two options... One is a super-biotic. But there's the risk his immune system might bow out of the fight. The other is a nodal transfusion. Rhiannon has agreed to be the donor. But the new antibodies may not conform fully. They may decide to attack the baby" Dr Smith says softly as he watches Rhiannon move to stand by Jack.

"I don't understand any of this." Jack tells her.

"He means that by trying to help him, we could lose him. Or lose the baby." She says sadly, watching as Jack's face crumbles.

"Or, if we do nothing, both. His immune system is... remarkably unstable. If we don't act, the infection will take over." Jack lowers into a chair. He feels a pain somewhere. He can't quite pin down where. Or what caused it. Or why it hurts so bad.

.

.

.

Ianto lies in bed, dozing, looking more relaxed. His oxygen mask makes breathing easier. Jack enters and sits beside him. He stirs, meeting his eye with a faint smile. Jack returns it "Hello, stranger."

"You look tired, Jack." Ianto gasps behind the mask.

"Ianto..."

"It's okay. I know. Rhiannon told me." He sits up, lowering his mask. His hand finding Jack's. "She told me a lot of things. About how they used a tiny part of her to make me. She said it wasn't so very different."

"What do you mean?" Jack raises the hand in his and kisses the knuckles.

"From this... From having a baby." Ianto strokes the belly with his other hand as Jack nods. A pause. Ianto continues, more troubled, wheezing "She told me how they use us... And I keep thinking... about the others... the ones we left behind, about how they'll never know... how they'll..."

Ianto's out of breath again, coughing. Jack helps him put the oxygen mask back over his mouth. Ianto slumps back, relaxing. Jack's worried and Ianto smiles at him with his eyes "I'm going to be okay, Jack."

"I know." But even to his own ears, the affirmation sounds hollow.

Jack finds a restroom before he breaks down. The stream of water gushes into Jack's hands. He splashes his face. Then looks at himself in the mirror. He looks sallow from restlessness. The facial hair makes him look like a shadow of his former self. For an instant he tenses at a light blinking in the glass. Blue light. Like a Vidcom. Then he sees it's just a humidifier on the far wall. Tension ebbing, he splashes some more water. When he looks up again, he sees his pupils are dilating. The sense of danger. His voice comes in a cold whisper "No"

Jack emerges from the restroom, scanning for the danger's source. Figures flash past in scrubs, white coats. Then he sees it. The figure emerging from the elevator. The face of the Leader.

A flurry of disturbance from the nurses as someone barges into the room. Dr. Smith is prepping Rhiannon for the transfusion. Hearing the ruckus, he looks up. Jack comes up to them, urgently "We have to go. We have to get him out."

"What are you talking about?" Rhiannon asks with confusion.

"He's come for him. For us." Jack hisses with urgency.

"Whatever this is about, we can't move him. He's already under sedation." The doctor says pointing to the next bed.

Jack looks to see Ianto, asleep.

"How long before he wakes up?" Jack demands.

The procedure takes three hours but..." the doctor starts but Jack is already dismissing him.

"You'll take care of it, won't you?" he asks Rhiannon, "Take him somewhere they can't find him?"

Rhiannon, understanding, simply nods.

Jack takes a last look at Ianto, then leans down and kisses his parted lips softly, "I won't forget you."

Jack hesitates, then departs.

Dr. Smith, bemused, turns to Rhiannon "Rhiannon, what the hell's going on?"

 


	13. end game

Jack moves up the corridor, purpose in his stride. His black gaze fixed on Leader, making an inquiry at the nurse's station. Jack doesn't even break stride. He seizes Leader by his collar and swings him into the trolley being pushed past. Jack takes off at a run.

Leader sees his prey through the confusion and he leaps over the nurse's station.

Jack stops at the emergency exit, checking to see his enemy is following then pushing on through the doors into the stairwell with an alarm sounding.

There is shouting and footsteps behind him, driving him deeper into the gloom.

Leader pushes through a door into flashes of light as he enters the underground garage, vehicles pulling in and out across the parking docks.

Leader looks around frantically, then sees Jack- leaping into a vehicle, jamming the throttle and lurching out, heading for the exit ramp.

Jack snarls as the vehicle flies out into the street, bouncing across the barrier with Leader in his black sleek model close behind.

Jack has one goal, draw his enemy away from Ianto. He jams the throttle down, he has to end this. Jack careens round another corner, the chassis tilting and bouncing up against the concrete and the windshield suddenly sprayed with sparks.

Jerking back on the throttle to avoid a collision Jack can see Leader dropping back. A chance to gain distance but Jack can't correct his steering in time and the vehicle careens at full speed over the intersection and through the barriers, the ground dropping away into a steep ramp.

The vehicle is flying through the air, screaming, crashing and crunching down, finally nose-diving into an empty bay with a mighty crunch.

Leader pulls up at the smashed gate arm. In the booth, a parking attendant greets the arrival with a smile "Welcome to Millennium Stadium, home of the Torchwood Admirals, parking is fifteen currency units..."

Leader gets out of the car. He looks down at the crash site below. The parking lot, like a marina, is filled to capacity. A game is in progress. A corona of light coming from the stadium. Hoots, music, the roaring crowd. Over which, sirens can now be heard. Leader draws the syringe-gun and heads down the ramp.

Dust blooms from the crash site. Leader crouches, peering down at the wrecked Vehicle. The exploded windshield, the dangling driver side door shows his prey has escaped the wreckage. He rises and scans around. On the concrete, a trail of blood is visible.

The blood trail leads down a gloomy stairwell. The game is just audible overhead. Jack stumbles down the steps, clutching his bleeding arm. Between pain and concussion, he loses his footing and falls. He tumbles down the remaining steps to the bottom. In the gloom Jack can see equipment, supplies - edgers, aerators, spray rigs, drums of insecticides, herbicides. For a moment, Jack lies stunned. Then hears a noise and rolls over. He looks up the stairwell. A shadow is descending towards him. With painful effort, Jack starts crawling across the floor, eyes fixed on the shadow. Tensing as a stunner noses out of the darkness.

Then stadium security steps into the light "You, what are you doing down here?"

Now he sees Jack more closely - injured, his arm bleeding.

"Ah, Jesus... Are you okay, son?" the man asks and Jack eases a little as he sees the security guard lower his weapon. Then suddenly the guard is blown aside and the guard jettisons the handgun, clutching his throat like it's on fire. With a boiling gurgle, he staggers forward. Streaming with sweat. Toppling across a drum. Convulsing, belching steam. Then suddenly his body falls slack. Leader is at the foot of the steps, discarding the spent ampule from the syringe-gun. Now screwing a fresh ampule into place. Jack turns to him, realizing what he's just witnessed is a glimpse of his own fate.

He pushes himself upright, bracing. Leader looks at him. Clutching his bloody arm, barely able to stay upright, but still ready to fight for life.

Jack half-smiles. A mask of anger as he moves in on his quarry, Leader has the syringe-gun poised.

Jack collapses to his knees, hanging his head as if in surrender... then suddenly his hand flies up as he fires the gun recovered from the ground.

Jack fires again - clipping his enemy, Leader roars with a charred wound in his shoulder, still advancing like a bloody terminator.

The drum finally catches and explodes, flinging both men against opposing walls as the dead guard dissolves in the flames.

A cacophony of sirens can be heard outside. A thick grey smoke gulches up from the stairwell. Shadows are visible. The sound of extinguishers. A fireman climbs up, emerging from the smoke, he pulls off his breathing mask to address a waiting PD officer "Nothing... If there was anyone down there, they're a pile of ashes now."

.

.

.

Peace. Sunlight. A bell tolling in the background. We make out Rhiannon, dressed in black, standing at a grave. The headstone reads simply: "Here Lies Ianto & His Unborn Son - May They Rest in Peace".

Out in the distance, the institute liner emerging from the shimmer. The crosshatch insignia.

**THE TORCHWOOD INSTITUTE**

Through the polarized glass we see the liner has docked. A group is disembarking. Another parade of plutocracy, aging bloated men and brittle young women. They filter inside to be greeted by the courtesy staff, led by the ever-perky Lydia.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Lydia and on behalf of our staff, I'd like to welcome you to The Torchwood Institute. Before we start the tour, we'll be serving refreshments in the visitor centre and circulating our standard discretion agreements. I should add that today you are all very lucky because our CEO and founder, Dr. Henry Tazanaki, is with us and will be leading the tour personally."

The tour group pick and mingle at a buffet. We isolate a casually dressed man, lightly bearded, in a Phoenix Admirals cap, crossing to Lydia. She turns to greet him with a smile "Yes... Mr. Thomas, isn't it?"

The man tilts up to reveal his face. We see he is Jack

"I can't find my sunglasses. I think I left them on the shuttle." Jack informs her with a winning smile.

"Well we're about to start the tour." Lydia says, "But I can have someone check for you."

"Don't worry. I'll catch up." Jack purrs, touching her arm with a wink and she giggles, then ushers people towards the start of the tour.

Jack moves quickly along the wall towards the back of the complex. Hugging the shadows, scanning for onlookers. There is the processing plant and there, the ring of funnels. The sight brings a sudden rush of memories, painful memories, and horrors.

Jack steels himself, then breaks from shadow and races for the nearest funnel. He makes a running lap. His fingers grab the lip of the funnel and he pulls himself up. Reaching the lip, he finds the funnel mouth has been gridded over. Then he hears "Sir, this is a restricted area"

Jack lowers back to the ground. He finds himself facing a technician hardhat. His uniform reads "Air Processing". Jack grins the shit eating grin again as he steps forward.

.

.

.

The doors slide open and the technician enters, stiffly. Then suddenly topples forward, pistol whipped from behind. Jack enters the elevator, a familiar handgun clenched in his fist.

Looking up an elevator shaft. The red pulse of the lode-poles, rippling downward as the elevator descends from the surface. Jack is now wearing the technician's uniform. He watches the panel lights flashing down.

"Level 3: Harvest"

"Level 5: Labor Decon",

"Level 7: Labor Quarters".

His pupils are dilating but his face is set with determination. He knows what he must do. His gaze drifts down to "Level Twenty: Agnate Containment".

The holographic rendering of containment spins in the vaulted chamber like a giant geometrical phantom. The hub blinks with blue dots in their hundreds as the inmates go about their day.

Overlooking the hub, Hubcom sits at his console. The hiss of an opening door as someone enters. Hubcon looks round. He greets the technician's arrival with an inquisitive look. Then the technician takes off his hardhat. Hubcon reacts almost instantly, reaching for the console. Then instantly freezes as Jack presses the handgun to his skull.

.

.

.

Pale blue light. Hubcon leads the way down a silent corridor. Jack follows him, the handgun firmly levelled on his head.

The pale blue light sustains. The chamber is reminiscent of the foundation chambers. The walls lined with tanks. But instead of amber fluid, these contain blocks of ice. Beside each tank is a grid of bio-monitors. Hubcon stumbles into frame, prodded by Jack. Then, with a trembling finger points to one of the tanks.

Jack holds aim on him and considers the glass facet. He wipes the condensation off the glass. Suspended in the block of ice is a shadow. A human figure. A device is attached to his stomach. Jack looks at the bio-monitors.

Jack looks across the EKG, the cardiograph, indications that Carrington is still alive. Then he fixes on the RFI monitor. A resonant image of the brain. The shifting aura showing a level of consciousness. What thoughts must be going through that mind? The fate of the agnates spared from expiration. To be kept on ice for future harvest.

Dr. Tazanaki stands at the wall of display tanks, mid-way through his sales pitch. He delivers it now with noticeably less gusto "Case in point, the clone. Back in the beginning, the mapping of the human genome was declared a historic landmark- to break the curse of heredity, to correct congenital defect... genetic engineering became the brave new world of medical science. A bright future that led to a dark age and much of the legislation we know today. But while the clone laws may have narrowed the field, science marches on. Only to... I'm sorry, I'm f" Suddenly he clutches his arm, emitting a guttural gasp.

"Dr. Tazanaki?" Lydia asks as she watches with horror.

Tazanaki just looks at her. Then jolts from a spasm, clawing at his chest. His knees buckling, he topples against a display case. Pawing at the glass, he slides dreadfully to the ground.

"He's having a heart attack! A doctor! Somebody get a doctor in here!" Lyda screams as the tour group keeps their distance, unsettled by the face of mortality.

Tazanaki is now lying in contortion on the floor, his gaping eyes fixed on the display tank. The embryo in mutated effigy, rocking about in the amber fluid. The sight of this little human monster is one that will follow him to the grave.

Alarms sounding. The hub grid blinking with red dots. Hubcon sitting frozen at the console, the handgun pressed to his head. Jack stands over him. His face cast in a chill of vengeance.

"What do you want to say?" Hubcom asks, "Just look at the camera."

"Every Vidcom within the hub?" Jack demands, "All Clones will see it?"

A glass facade. A noise from within. A primal, guttural noise, building to a roar. Now warping as the glass webbing, bursts open from within, the facade exploding in a parody of fireworks as several clones step out and look out with anger.

.

.

.

No clue of where we may be. A safe house somewhere. The passage of time is marked on Jack's face, careworn, long hair, and a full beard. He sits in front of a data tablet, his image recorded on its screen. His voice also seems older as he speaks

"It's been a year since the breakout. A year in hiding, waiting for things to quiet down. I don't know how many made it out or how many who did, survived. I know there are people called politicians trying to say it never happened. That's why I've kept this journal. To keep the truth alive. Alive... I've learned what that means but it still confuses me. In functional terms, I've been alive for ten years. In human terms, more than thirty. Human... I'm not sure about that one either. They say I'm not human because I have no mother or father. I guess I have more to learn. But one word I do understand is hope. So maybe this journal will give hope - to those like me, who may be out there. To know they're not alone. My name is Jack Six-Echo and this is my testament... "He sits back, contemplating the screen with an air of closure.

Then he stirs at a sound. At first just a gurgle. Then a moan. Becoming the sound of a baby complaining. Jack crosses to a cot. He lifts up a baby boy, 6 months old, bawling and squirming.

A soft voice with a lit, "Is he hungry again? I just fed him."

Ianto steps into the room, sleep-mussed, his beauty deepened by maternity. The baby reaches out for him. Jack hands him over

"Jack Junior, huh? It still doesn't sound right. That name." Jack smiles as they begin their game.

"It's the name of his father." Ianto murmurs as he lovingly kisses him. Jack smiles at him, then the baby, sweeping the hair from the forehead.

A kiss is applied to his son.

Ianto makes a small sound and Jack pulls him into his arms, the kiss for him is passionate and full of hope.

As are they.

End

* * *

 


End file.
